The Sun Only Lasts If We Live

A boy hobbles into my sick room. He looks as weak as me. He lies on the bed they set up for someone in my room.

"Kato. Your name is Sunonemun, right?"

He looks completely different to me. He doesn't have Leontiasis ossea. He has loads of good looks. I nod warily.

"Sunonemun? You okay?"

He's the only one apart from my mother who has ever said my name right. It stimulates me to do what I do next. I open my mouth and point at it. He jumps away as he sees my tongue-less mouth.

"What have they done?"

Kato, my old conjoined twin, looks sadly at me as he examines my hands. The he looks at his clear, unscarred ones.

"Are you in any pain?"

I wish I could lie to him, like I do the doctors and my mother, but no. He's too compassionate, like he really cares about me even though we've only just met.

I nod, and grab a pad of paper and a pen from the floor.

In my rusty handwriting, I write:

Constant pain everyday. No tongue makes it worse. Like I can never be normal. I can't.

He reads it. "Isn't it better to die?"

I think for a moment, then I nod again.

I scrawl more words onto the pad.

He reads them:

I guess, but won't they all die?

"Suppose so. But I'm on my way out anyway." He glances at his leg, which is really really gross-looking.

Then Doctor Kara comes in and we stop talking. I notice her expression is unusually grave.

"Sue - none - mim, your mother. . ."

I look at her, suddenly scared.

"Your mother is dead."

And my world comes crashing down.